


Gave You Every Piece of Me

by charlottelennox



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Content, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-05 15:30:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16370264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlottelennox/pseuds/charlottelennox
Summary: “You two don’t share blood, do you?” he asked, his fingers skittering across his keyboard. “Adopted, and all that?”Loki answered before Thor had a chance. “We are brothers,” he said firmly, “in every way that matters.”Thor’s heart swelled; he couldn’t help it.The Grandmaster just chuckled. “Oh, I don’t doubt that, Green Eyes.”__Then: After Ragnarok, the Grandmaster, furious at Thor and Loki's escape, pursues them. Thor and Loki end up his prisoners and spend months in his captivity, victim to the Grandmaster's every depraved sexual whim.Now: The Avengers rescued Thor and Loki and brought them back to Earth. Thor has given up the throne of Asgard (for now), and Loki is growing more and more depressed by the day. Their shared trauma has more than taken its toll, but Thor and Loki barely even know how to talk to each other anymore, let alone figure out how to be brothers again.





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Loxxlay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loxxlay/gifts).



> This is written for [Grandthorki Day,](https://grandthorkiday.tumblr.com/) for the always wonderful [@loxxxlay.](http://loxxxlay.tumblr.com/) It will be posted in three parts; the first part is fairly tame, but the non-con between Thor and Loki is kind of implied. The second and third parts will be somewhat explicit. However, I've gone ahead and slapped the most pertinent warnings on the fic, even if the tagged elements don't appear in this chapter. 
> 
> Thank you [@loxxxlay.](http://loxxxlay.tumblr.com/) for creating and putting so much hard work into this event, without which I would not have challenged myself to write this! I hope you have a wonderful birthday and that Grandthorki Day bestows upon you the embarrassment of riches you deserve. <3  
> __
> 
> Title comes from the song "Dynasty" by Miia.
> 
>   _The scar, I can't reverse  
>  When the more it heals,   
> The worse it hurts.   
> Gave you every piece of me,   
> No wonder it's missing;   
> Don't know how to be so close to   
> Someone so distant.   
> And all I gave you is gone,   
> Tumbled like it was stone.   
> It all fell, it all fell down, it all fell down._

 

**I.**

 

**_Now._ **

Most afternoons, Thor can be found sitting on the floor in the hallway, watching the washing machine. The way the clothes spin in a furious whirl reminds him of Mjolnir. Sometimes, Thor closes his eyes and remembers the weight of her in his palm and how his nerves thrummed and his heart leapt into his throat in anticipation in the split-second before his feet lifted off the ground.

After he and Loki had settled in at the Avengers compound, Thor had made the journey to the cliff in Norway where he’d lost her. Steve had flown him there in one of the Quinjets, because Thor never could quite get the hang of piloting long distances. The whole trip might have been a bust - Thor had hardly dared to let himself hope - but, there in the grass just at the edge of the cliff lay Mjolnir’s shattered pieces and broken handle, untouched since the day Hela destroyed her.

“Good thing your dad picked the middle of nowhere to say his goodbyes,” Tony said, when Thor returned to the compound with what was left of Mjolnir wrapped in a simple beige cloth. “I bet no one’s stepped foot out there since that day.”

“Aye. Likely not,” Thor agreed.

He likes to fantasize that he will one day make the journey to Nidavellir with Mjolnir’s remains and enlist the dwarves’ help to forge her anew. Loki, ever the pragmatist, pointed out once that it would be years before New Asgard completed work on its bifrost and, without it, Nidavellir was simply too far. “We are too limited in resources,” Loki said, the corners of his mouth turned down in barely-masked frustration.

“Be that as it may, eventually it _will_ be repaired,” Thor returned. “I can wait.”

Loki shrugged, as if to say, _suit yourself_.

The leg of a pair of Loki’s dark pants slaps against the clear glass door before it is swallowed up again in suds and the rush of water. Thor shifts his weight, drawing his knees up a bit. When his thoughts begin to get to him, he finds doing the laundry helpful. He likes the consistent spin of the clothes, the gentle hum of the machine, the faithful buzz to signal that the load has finished and is ready to be dried. If he _really_ needs to get outside of his head, he will try to keep count of how many times the clothes spin during one cycle. So far, the highest he’s counted is three hundred and twenty seven spins.

The machine is the same one Jane had when she and Thor lived together in London, so Thor had the advantage of already knowing how to use it. Loki, however, refuses to learn to use the machine. They have lived together in the Avengers compound for six months now, and in that time, Loki attempted to do the laundry only once. All of their shirts and pants came out faded and at least three sizes too small.

Thor and Loki stood together, surveying the damage. “This is stupid,” Loki said, twisting the washed out remains of a green shirt in his hands. He flicked his wrist and, with a shimmer, the shirt returned to its normal size and color. It still smelled faintly of the purple detergent bottle labeled Spring Rain, which Steve had recommended. “Why should we even bother?”

“You won’t always have magic,” Thor said with a sigh, even as he watched Loki repair all of their ruined clothes with a few more flickers of shimmering green light. “You have to learn how to get by without it.”

“If we’re in a situation where I don’t have magic,” Loki said, a hard edge to his voice, “then I’m sure we have worse problems than whether or not the laundry is done.”

 _Like Sakaar,_ Thor thought, and knew Loki thought it, as well.

Loki won’t learn how to use the dishwasher or the oven, either, nor will he clean out the refrigerator or dust behind the toilet. When it is Loki’s turn to do the chores, he simply magicks everything clean and spotless. Magic is a crutch to Loki, Thor thinks, but when he expresses disapproval, Loki just scoffs. _What does it matter how I do things,_ he asks, _as long as they get done?_

 _I suppose it doesn’t matter_ , Thor concedes.

* * *

  ** _Then._**

The Grandmaster intercepted the _Statesman_ only a few days into their trudging journey toward Earth. Foolishly, it had never occurred to Thor that the Grandmaster would come after them. He’d been too concerned with Hela, with Asgard. _Out of sight, out of mind_ , the expression went, and it certainly applied to Sakaar. Thor had never intended to so much as _think_ of that literal garbage heap ever again.

Intentions, he’d learned, meant absolutely nothing, in the grand scheme of things.

The battle had been humiliatingly short - they’d given it a valiant effort, but they were exhausted and drained after the battle for Asgard, and their people were not soldiers, anyway. They were no match for the Grandmaster, who proved he was not only far more formidable than Thor had realized but also far angrier about the “revolution” as well as the theft of his ships. In his arena on Sakaar, with his smiles, quips, and childlike glee over his champion, the Grandmaster had seemed little more than a self-indulgent lunatic in a position of power. The most dangerous kind of lunatic, certainly, but easily squashed like a bug were it not for the advantage of the obedience disks. In a fair fight, Thor was confident that the Grandmaster would join the long line of foes to crumble under Thor’s wrath.

He was very wrong.

The surrender was made out of necessity for Asgard’s people. They’d have been slaughtered without a second thought, had Thor not offered himself as a prisoner if the rest of his people were let go. Alone, Thor would be able to come up with a plan of escape, he told himself. He could not do so as long as he had two thousand people to consider.

The Grandmaster had tapped his chin, brow furrowed, considering Thor’s proposal. _One condition,_ he finally said, and Thor set his shoulders. _Your adopted brother must come, too._

Thor did not like the way he emphasized the word _adopted_ , though he did not yet understand the Grandmaster’s intent.

 _Loki is not part of this deal,_ Thor had growled.

 _I can speak for myself,_ Loki spat out.

The Grandmaster clapped his hands as a cheerful smile crossed his face. _Is that agreement, then?_

 _Loki -_ Thor had tried, but Loki cut him off.

 _My brother and me,_ Loki agreed, _for the rest of our people._

 _Wonderful. Just wonderful,_ said the Grandmaster.

Thor’s memories fade in and out after that.

* * *

**_Now._**

They don’t call each other _brother_ anymore.

* * *

For years, the Avengers were scattered. Thor still doesn’t really know all of the details of the events that occurred after Sokovia. But he knows of the Accords and the trouble they caused, and he knows that the rift between Steve and Tony went deep. They might never have spoken again, had it not been for Bruce bringing them back together. Bruce, the Valkyrie, and Heimdall sought out the Avengers while the rest of the Asgardians found refuge on Alfheim. The team came together to rescue Thor  (and, by extension, Loki) and brought the brothers back to Earth so that they could recover. Thor doesn’t remember much about it, but from what he understands, he and Loki were both in pretty bad shape by the time they were rescued.

Eventually, Thor knows he’ll have to reclaim his place as king. For now, Heimdall and Sif act as regents to their settlement on Alfheim. They’d gone there, along with the Valkyrie, while Thor and Loki went to Earth, insistent that they stay together. New Asgard still has use of the _Statesman_ , but Alfheim is much too far to make any regular trips. Heimdall reaches across the cosmos with his gifts when he needs to contact Thor, and vice versa. When Thor and Loki decide to return to Alfheim, it will be a one-way trip, at least until the bifrost is rebuilt. Thor knows this, which is part of the reason he’s putting it off as long as possible.

After they were rescued, and were trying to figure out what to do, Thor offered the throne to Loki. “You’re their savior, twice over now,” Thor said, “and beloved. You deserve to be king. Besides, it’s your birthright - you’re next in line. Legitimately.”

Loki’s eyebrows had drawn together, as if he were trying to determine where the trick was. He searched Thor’s earnest features and found none. “Thor,” Loki replied then, looking more exhausted than Thor had ever seen him, “you could not pay me all the gold in the galaxy to be king.”

Thor can’t blame him.

* * *

Every Thursday night, they have a communal dinner with the rest of the Avengers. It’s the one day of the week that they all make sure to be available because it’s important to Tony. Team-building, he calls it.

They gather around the long table in the dining room, large enough so that everyone has a seat. The team has grown exponentially since before Sokovia. Thor still has trouble remembering who everyone is, though it isn’t for lack of trying. It’s just that remembering things, in general, is difficult now.

The brunette girl from Sokovia eyes him warily from across the table. Thor doesn’t remember her name, doesn’t remember when she switched sides. What he remembers is that her powers came from Loki’s scepter, and that it was she who put the nightmares of Ragnarok into his head and into his dreams and they stayed there right up until Asgard was devoured in flames.

 _Wanda_ , he thinks, staring back at her. _Her name is Wanda. Maybe._

Loki sits very close to Thor. One of the advantages of this new team is that Loki is not the only one whose past hangs over them like lead. There is Wanda, whose powers make Thor nervous, and there is Steve’s friend, Bucky. He and Tony never speak to each other. Something about Tony’s parents and Hydra, though Thor never managed to get the entire story.

It doesn’t matter much. They’re all trying to move forward. Clean slates for everyone, Loki included.

None of them are very good cooks, so they usually order out for these dinners. They have a standing order at a few restaurants - mostly Italian fare, though sometimes they change it up and order Chinese or American burgers and fries.  

“Aren’t you hungry?” Thor asks, when the serving dishes make their way around the table and Loki passes on all of them without a word.

Loki never eats anymore. They’ve all noticed how his clothes hang on him, how his bones protrude. Thor doesn’t know what to do about it.

“No,” Loki says, filling his glass to the brim with Dr. Pepper. “I’m not.”

“Not even for pizza?” Tony offers, holding a box in their direction. “You like pepperoni, right, Reindeer Games?”

Loki gazes at Tony coolly over the rim of his soda glass. “My name is Loki.”

Thor kicks Loki’s ankle.

“Sorry. Loki.” Tony smiles, unbothered. “You do like pepperoni though, right? This comes straight from the city. You won’t find pizza better than this anywhere on Earth.”

“That’s true,” agrees the boy - Peter? -  who comes up for their weekly dinners from a place called Queens. He is barely seventeen years old, which blows Thor’s mind a little - he can hardly conceive of only having existed for such a _tiny_ period of time. At least the rest of the Avengers have a few decades under their belts. Peter is still a child, really, but he is an enhanced human, and it is Thor’s understanding that Tony has grown quite attached to him.

Peter is sitting on Tony’s right, and he takes the pizza box and scoops out a couple of slices before passing the box on to Loki. He takes a huge bite out of one of his slices. “No better pizza anywhere on Earth,” he echoes and then grins at Loki, mouth full.

Thor catches Loki’s somewhat amused smile before he manages to hide it. “Thank you,” is all he says as he accepts the box. He passes it to Thor without so much as looking inside.

Thor takes a few slices for himself and Loki and, when Wanda offers him a dish of lasagna, Thor gives Loki and himself heaping servings of that, too. If Loki will not fill his own plate, then Thor will fill it for him. Short of shoving the food down Loki’s throat, however, he can do little else.

The conversation is lively, as always. Tony and Bruce are in the middle of some kind of anecdote about their hijinks in the science lab; meanwhile, Peter and Steve have started discussing which city has the better pizza, Brooklyn or Queens. While Sam fills Thor in on the rivalry between Brooklyn and Queens - “Legendary, but I’m from D.C., so I’m not invested either way,” Sam chuckles - Thor notices that Loki is edging his chair closer to Thor’s every so often. He doesn’t stop until he is practically sitting in Thor’s lap. He’s confessed that he hates these team dinners. _Everyone looks at me and wonders why I’m here_ , he always complains to Thor later.

 _No one is thinking that,_ Thor assures him. _We’re all starting over, remember?_

 _Mm,_ Loki says, unconvinced.

Now, underneath the table, Thor goes to rest his hand on Loki’s thigh. It is an unconscious gesture, meant to comfort, but as soon as his fingers skim the fine material of Loki’s pants, they both freeze. Thor feels Loki’s leg tense up, and he jerks his hand away as if he’s been burned.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

Loki shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

But he edges his chair away again, and doesn’t look at Thor for the remainder of the meal.

* * *

**_Then._ **

On Sakaar, they were given rather lavish - if gaudy - chambers to share. The chambers were not unlike the Hulk’s, Thor reflected, although the furniture was smaller. When the guards had first shown Loki and Thor to their room, the brothers had stood stiffly, each eyeing their surroundings until the Grandmaster came in.

“I hope you find your accommodations satisfactory,” the Grandmaster purred, as if he were nothing more than the gracious host to visiting royalty. “This is one - one of our _best_ suites; only the best for two princes of Assberg.”

“Asgard,” Thor corrected automatically, his jaw clenched.

“Right. _Asgard_.” The Grandmaster drew the word out carefully, deliberately, and then laughed. “Anyway, by all means, make yourselves at home. I want you to be as comfortable as possible for your, uh, your stay with me.”

“And how long is this stay to last?” Thor asked, folding his arms across his chest. Standing, he towered above the Grandmaster, but he knew now that brute physical strength was not going to be enough to overpower him. He and Loki would have to come up with something more cunning than that. In fact, though Thor was loathe to admit it, he was not entirely convinced they could overpower the Grandmaster at all, and so the next best option was to plot escape rather than confrontation.

Loki, who was being uncharacteristically silent, had mentioned once that he’d planned an _accident_ to befall the Grandmaster. Thor made a mental note to ask Loki about it once they were alone.

At Thor’s question, a slow smile spread across the Grandmaster’s face. It was not a friendly smile in the least; something about it set Thor’s nerves on edge, made his core tighten. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” the Grandmaster said, clasping his hands together. “I must have given you the wrong impression. This isn’t a temporary stay, Sparkles, darling. This vacation is more of the, uh, of the permanent sort. I thought that was understood.”

Thor glanced at Loki, whose jaw was set in a firm line. His gaze flicked back to Thor’s, but revealed nothing. It would help, Thor thought with a huff of an irritated breath, if he would _say_ something. Put his silver tongue to use, for once.

“That’s not going to be a problem, is it?” the Grandmaster went on. “I, uh, was under the impression that we were all on the same - the same page, here.”

Thor looked back at the Grandmaster. The man was still smiling, but something dangerous - something malicious - darkened his eyes. Thor felt a shudder go through him as he met the other man’s gaze. The Grandmaster officially gave him the creeps. “No,” Thor said, and forced a smile. “Not a problem. We had a deal.”

 _Play along,_ he told himself, as the Grandmaster’s smile blossomed into a full grin. _Play along, and plan escape._ They’d managed escape once already; he was certain they could do it again. They only had to ensure that the Grandmaster did not follow them a second time.

Easier said than done, Thor would later learn.

* * *

_**Now.** _

Some nights, late, while Thor is in the bathroom connecting his and Loki’s rooms, he hears Loki crying behind his closed door. When it happens, Thor goes over to the door separating them and rests his forehead against it. He can’t bring himself to knock or otherwise announce his presence; instead, all he can do is close his eyes, his heart twisting in his chest as he listens to Loki’s sobs.

* * *

**_Then._ **

The Grandmaster had gone well out of his way to treat them as _guests_ rather than prisoners. He’d lavished clothes and food and comforts upon them, introduced them to his inner circle, laughed and smiled with them while he held court, his favored synthetic music keeping a steady background beat.

If it weren’t for the obedience disks embedded in each of their necks, it would have looked to the casual observer that Thor and Loki were simply the newest guests to earn - and enjoy - the Grandmaster’s favor. It was absolutely imperative that it come across that way. Thor and Loki had come to an agreement, that first night, that the only way to deceive the Grandmaster was if he did not see it coming. They had to be completely compliant to every whim and command - cheerfully compliant, even.

Their mistake, the first time, had been in underestimating the Grandmaster. Not only could they not make the same mistake twice, but they had to go the extra mile to ensure that the Grandmaster was the one underestimating _them_.

The Grandmaster had to think he’d won. He’d gotten what he wanted - the princes - and they’d gotten what they wanted - the safety of their people. A mutually beneficial arrangement. He had to believe that the brothers had accepted their deal and were prepared to spend the rest of their days in the Grandmaster’s court.

So they’d accepted the drinks, eaten the food, worn the clothes, traded smiles and stories with the courtiers and hangers-on all striving to get a piece of the Grandmaster, who was absolutely in his element. All of that power, and all he seemed to want to do was drink and play games while luxuriating in the spotlight.

It would have been funny, if it wasn’t so _disturbing_.

Later, it became clear that the Grandmaster was lulling them into a sense of … not security, exactly, but tedium. He was allowing them to believe that this imprisonment would be served in a gilded cage, that they might grow bored but they were lucky they were not to be contenders. He kept this charade up so well that they were blindsided when one night, very casually, the Grandmaster mentioned their adoptive relationship. “You two don’t share blood, do you?” he asked, his fingers skittering across his keyboard. “Adopted, and all that?”

Loki answered before Thor had a chance. “We are brothers,” he said firmly, “in every way that matters.”

Thor’s heart swelled; he couldn’t help it.

The Grandmaster just chuckled. “Oh, I don’t doubt that, Green Eyes.”

As far as Thor knew, Loki had not demonstrated any of his magic in front of the Grandmaster, so instead of nicknaming him in kind, the Grandmaster had opted to focus on Loki’s physical attributes. _Green Eyes_ was his favorite, although sometimes he’d call Loki _Cheekbones_ or _Lips_ . Thor was only ever _Sparkles_ , and it drove him crazy - but not nearly as furious as he felt every time he heard the Grandmaster refer to Loki like he was little more than a pet, the prettiest face in his crowd of sycophants.

Sometimes, Thor was glad for the obedience disk. The reminder of it, sharp and prickly in his neck, kept him from losing his temper and attempting to beat the Grandmaster to within an inch of his life. It would be a futile waste of energy, and it would blow their cover, anyway.

But, Norns, he _wanted_ to. He wanted to so badly that he’d taken to clenching his fists almost constantly. After several days, the sheer force of strength he needed to keep himself in check caused such a strain on his muscles and bones that his arms were beginning to bruise, faint discolorations up and down the otherwise smooth, golden skin.

“I’m sure it’s a very - a very nice bond,” the Grandmaster went on, hitting a particularly sharp chord on the keyboard that made Thor want to wince. “Brothers, adopted brothers - we’re all just one big happy family of brothers, aren’t we? In _all_ the ways that matter.”

Loki and Thor exchanged a glance. They were sitting side-by-side on a gold leather (incredibly gauche, in Thor’s opinion) chaise lounge by the Grandmaster’s side, as usual. Thor lifted his eyebrows at Loki, completely lost as to what the Grandmaster was babbling about.

Loki lifted his shoulders almost imperceptibly in reply and took a large swallow of his drink.

“The great thing about happy families,” the Grandmaster said, finally looking up from his keyboard long enough to grin, his gaze flicking from Loki and Thor and back again, “is that we all - we all just _share_ so much, you know? That’s what keeps us close. Keeps those bonds in - _intact_.” The Grandmaster winked at Loki, whose shudder was invisible but Thor could feel it from the way Loki tensed beside him.

“Hey, uh, Sparkles, you guys ever, uh, ever experiment?” the Grandmaster asked. He directed his question to Thor, but his eyes didn’t leave Loki’s. “Explore those brotherly bonds?”

“No,” Loki answered in a voice Thor hardly recognized as his brother’s. It was low and rough, even rougher than Loki’s voice naturally fell.

“Not a lot of open-mindedness on Assberg, huh?” The Grandmaster nodded and puckered his lips, the expression making him look like he’s just taken a bite out of something sour. “Well, the good - the good thing about Sakaar, my princes, is that we’re very open-minded here. One big happy family,” he said again.

“Loki,” Thor whispered under his breath. Loki had grown more and more tense with each word, and now Thor was positive that there was something underlying in the Grandmaster’s words that Thor was missing completely.

“Shut _up_ , Thor,” Loki hissed.

“Oh, don’t worry, Sparkles,” the Grandmaster said with a smile. He looked away from them then, his attention going back to his keyboard. “I’m just curious.”

“Why would I be worried?” Thor asked, which earned him a swift kick in the shin from Loki. “ _Ow_ ,” he added pointedly, tossing his brother a glare.

Loki closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I swear to the Norns, Thor.”

The Grandmaster laughed. “I love, just _love_ , this witty repartee thing you two have going on,” he said, even though neither of them had hardly said anything at all, let alone anything _witty_. “I can tell you’re close. Closer than just brothers. I have a brother, you know.”

He left the sentence hanging. Loki and Thor exchanged another glance, and then Loki sighed.

“Is that so,” he asked flatly, and dutifully.

“Oh, yes,” the Grandmaster agreed. “Almost as old as I am, and _twice_ as eccentric. Can  you _imagine_? We were closer than brothers, too. Attached - attached at the hip -  and at other areas of our respective, uh, anatomies.”

If Thor had been drinking just then, he’d have choked. As it was, he finally, _finally_ got what the Grandmaster had been skirting around, and he felt every single muscle in his body grow tense and freeze over.

Loki remained expressionless.

The Grandmaster looked up from the keyboard - not at Loki and Thor, this time, but rather to stare into space, something dreamy and faraway crossing his expression. “Very close,” he said again. “True love, if you will. There’s no bond like the bond between brothers.”

“What happened to him?” Loki asked, trying to keep the Grandmaster talking.

“What happens to anyone?” the Grandmaster replied, shrugging. “We went our s-separate ways. For now. But that’s not the, uh, the point. The point is …” And here, he looked directly at Thor, still smiling, but something sinister that Thor had learned to recognize creeping in at the edges. “You two owe it to yourselves to explore, uh, _every_ aspect of your brotherly bond. Not to mention, you owe it to - to me.”

A heavy silence fell. Next to him, Loki was hardly breathing at all. Thor glanced at Loki’s face, taking in his set jaw and blank face, but he knew Loki well enough to recognize the faint beginnings of panic behind his green eyes. Anger washed over Thor in a hot wave.

“If you’re implying what I think you are,” he said to the Grandmaster, “you can forget it. I’m not doing anything like that.”

“Aren’t you?” the Grandmaster’s animosity was now shining in his eyes as well as his mouth. “This isn’t Assberg, _Sparkles_ . I thought, uh, I thought we all understood that I’m, you know, _in charge_.”

Thor’s heart started beating so hard he could practically taste each thump in his throat. “But -”

“Hey, it’s okay,” the Grandmaster cut him off smoothly. “It’s only natural. We’re all brothers here.”

* * *

 

 


	2. II.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Just reiterating the warnings that this kind of explicitly (not super explicitly) portrays non-con. Also the r-word is used twice.**

 

**II.**

**_Now._ **

Thor likes sparring with Steve’s friend, Bucky, because Bucky doesn’t really talk and there’s something liberating in that.

Bucky’s existence baffles Thor, mostly because he isn’t entirely sure where Bucky _came_ from. All Steve had said was, _we grew up together. Fought together. We go way back_. Thor takes this to mean that Bucky has been Steve’s friend since before Steve went into the ice, which - knowing what Thor does about the human aging process - doesn’t make sense with Bucky’s youthful appearance.

Something happened between Steve, Bucky, and Tony, but no one has volunteered the entire story to Thor, and he feels it would be rude to ask.

Bucky has a metal arm. He is enhanced, like Steve, which means he can give Thor nearly as good as he gets. Thor doesn’t have to hold back with Bucky, nor does Bucky attempt to hold back with him. They each need this, even if they’ve never explicitly said so. Bucky’s dark eyes are haunted and he often hides behind his hair, like a puppy walking around with its head down because it’s been scolded too many times.

Thor feels sorry for him sometimes, and he doesn’t know why.

Bucky and Thor tend to go several rounds every other morning, each of them giving all they’ve got. On Friday morning, they spar for a good two hours before Thor is drenched in sweat and Bucky is breathing hard, leaning over, hands resting on his knees.

“Quits?” Thor asks with a wry smile.

Bucky agrees with a nod and an exhale of breath. He straightens and pushes his damp hair out of his eyes. “Good round,” he says.

“You too,” Thor responds automatically. The sparring room/gym in the compound is large and dim, the air conditioner always blasting full force. Thor goes over to one of the benches on the sideline, where he’s left a couple of bottles of ice cold water. He scoops one up and passes the other to Bucky, who smiles his thanks.

“Steve mentioned he was going to be doing some drills later,” Thor remarks, after swallowing down a gulp of his water. “I was thinking I might join. What about you?”

Bucky’s shoulders rise and fall as he finishes his sip of water, and then wipes his mouth. “Don’t know. Steve shoulda been a drill sergeant. Drives me nuts when he gets in commander mode.”

Thor grins, despite himself. Steve takes his drill sessions very seriously. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he agrees. “I just feel like I have so much _energy_. I can’t seem to get it out.”

The sound Bucky makes is sympathetic, but he doesn’t respond.

“I’m worried about my brother,” Thor goes on. “It seems like he’s … like he’s shutting down, you know? Getting lost inside of himself. It’s kind of what he does,, like a defense mechanism or something.  I never know how to pull him back out again.” It’s frustrating, and Thor abruptly closes his fist around his water bottle, crumpling it in one smooth motion. The water was almost gone, anyway. “It’s not like I don’t _get_ what he went through. I went through the same damn thing.”

And _how_.

Bucky says nothing, just continues sipping his water, watching as Thor drops down on the bench and pushes his hands through his hair. The less Bucky says, the more Thor feels like _he_ can say. Their sparring sessions tend to end up like this. “I just want my brother back,” he says quietly, clasping his hands together at the base of his skull.

For awhile, the only sound is the low hum  of the air conditioner and the crinkling of Bucky’s water bottle as he shifts it in his hands. Bucky sits down next to Thor, frowning, passing the water bottle from one hand to the other, over and over.

“I don’t know your brother very well,” Bucky finally says, and Thor has to snort, because no one knows Loki very well, least of all Thor, “but trauma can be … people have to deal with it in their own way. He’s probably doing the best he can.”

“Well, ‘the best he can’ isn’t good enough,” Thor can’t help saying.

“Not for you,” Bucky agrees. “Probably not for him, either. As frustrated as you are … Loki probably feels ten times worse about it.”

“About what we went through?”

“No. About how he’s _reacting_ to what you went through.” Bucky tips his head back, finishing the remainder of his water in one, large swallow. “He can’t _help_ it, Thor.”

Thor nods slowly. “So what do you think I should do?”

Bucky shrugs. He’s quiet for so long that Thor thinks that’s his answer, but then as Thor sighs and gets to his feet, Bucky says, “I don’t really have a frame of reference for your experience. Or his. But if it were me … I’d just want to know you weren’t giving up on me.” A smile flicks across his face, gone again in an instant. “That’s what Steve does. It makes all the difference.”

* * *

 

**_Then._ **

The Grandmaster sat in between Thor and Loki, with his arm around Loki’s waist. Thor was nursing what had to be his sixth cocktail in the last half hour.

The last several days had passed in a haze. Once the Grandmaster introduced the idea of _brotherly explorations_ , things had taken a sharp turn for the worst. They spent a lot of time in the Grandmaster’s private suites, now, with various people occasionally coming and going, while the Grandmaster watched repeat performances of _The Tragedy of Thor and Loki of Sakaar_ , as Thor had started thinking of it. Dark humor was one of the ways he was coping. Drink was another.

Thor could hardly believe that this was happening to them. That he was _letting_ it happen to them. It didn’t seem real. He had been unable to think of any way to get out of it, and flat out refusing, they had painfully learned, displeased the Grandmaster greatly.

This was the entertainment the Grandmaster required. _You took my champion, remember?_ he said. _What other games do I have to play now?_

Never in his life, not even when he was banished, had Thor felt so utterly helpless.

The worst part about it was that Thor’s lack of ability to save them was hurting Loki, too. Loki hardly met Thor’s gaze anymore, but Thor couldn’t blame him - he couldn’t exactly look at Loki much, either. Looking at Loki made Thor’s skin crawl. It wasn’t Loki’s fault, but once the Grandmaster forced them over the line that they never should have crossed, there was no turning back.

Thor squeezed his eyes shut, his head spinning. He remembered judging the Valkyrie for her drinking habits, but he was eating those words now. If he didn’t have some way to blur the lines of reality, he would have gone crazy already. As it was, he could barely stand himself. He felt so completely and thoroughly disgusted with himself.

He was doing terrible things to Loki.

Hardly a sober minute went by that Thor wasn’t haunted by the memory of his brother beneath him, the memory of Loki’s warm, tight heat enveloping him. Loki squeezing his eyes shut, forcing himself to endure Thor thrusting inside of him. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry,_ Thor kept whispering, even as he snapped his hips, until finally Loki hissed, _just shut up,_ and Thor did.

All the while, the Grandmaster was on the edge of his seat, glued to the performance, one hand wrapped around his own cock.

Thor felt _complicit_. He should be fighting back, but he didn’t know how - not while he had the obedience disk still embedded in his neck. His strength had betrayed him, his power had betrayed him, and his body had betrayed him. He was not immune to the physical stimulation, and when he spilled inside of Loki, the Grandmaster was still right there, stroking himself, laughing at Thor’s expression.

 _Well?_ he’d say. _Don’t leave Green Eyes hanging._ Thor dutifully took Loki in hand and stroked him to completion, both of their faces burning with shame.

Delightful, just delightful, the Grandmaster said. Triumph was in his voice, his victory secured. He knew he had won, and each time he made Thor _rape_ Loki, he won again and again.

Thor _let_ the Grandmaster win, again and again.

Thor was losing.

Thor was disgusting.

* * *

**_Now._ **

When Thor finds Loki, his brother is lounging on the sofa in the rec room, eating a container of  Jell-O and watching something on the big-screen television.

“Hey,” Thor says, glad to see Loki eating _something_. “Mind if I join?”

Loki shrugs, gesturing to the empty space on the sofa. “I won’t stop you.”

It’s as good as a yes as Thor is going to get. He sits down, careful to leave several inches of space between them. Touch used to come so easily between them, growing up - Thor knew Loki’s body as well as his own, and vice versa. They would crowd into each other’s space as if it didn’t exist, like they had no concept of where one ended and the other began. It was only after Loki fell that he withdrew physically from Thor, that he refused physical affection and kept his distance. They hardly had time, after the battle of Asgard, to establish new boundaries before they ended up with the Grandmaster - and anything even resembling normal boundaries was suddenly nonexistent.

Thor suppresses a shudder. He directs his attention to the television screen. “What are you watching?”

Loki shrugs again, licking a bit of Jell-O off of his spoon. “I don’t know. Some law enforcement show. A woman was murdered at the beginning and now they’re trying to figure out who did it.” He eats another spoonful of Jell-O. “It’s pretty stupid.”

“Yeah, sounds it,” Thor agrees. He settles back into the cushions anyway, because he doesn’t particularly care about the television program. He just wants to spend time with Loki. “Have they made much progress?”

“No.” Loki snorts. “For law enforcement officers, they’re not very bright. Obviously it was her husband.”

“What makes you think so?”

“He acted pretty suspicious when they went to question him. His story doesn’t add up. His alibi fell through.” Loki gestures with his spoon and grins a little. “Also, they showed him killing her at the beginning of the show.”

Thor blinks, and then laughs. “So what’s the point?”

“The _drama_ . The _suspense_. I imagine a lot of humans are on the edge of their seats right now, yelling at the screen that the officers missed a clue or that they’ve been tossed a red herring. I don’t know.” Loki still looks amused. “I told you, it’s stupid.”

They finish watching anyway. For the next twenty minutes, they watch as the law enforcement officers - police - chase down clues until they finally, at the dramatic eleventh hour, catch the husband in a lie and arrest him for the murder. After it ends, another episode of the same show begins. “Is this a marathon?” Thor asks with a laugh, because there’s something strangely hilarious about Loki spending his Friday afternoon marathoning bad crime television.

“Yeah,” Loki admits around the spoon in his mouth. There’s still a bit of orange gelatin at the bottom of his container; he’s certainly taking his time eating what, to Thor’s knowledge, is his only meal this week. “I didn’t have anything better to do.”

“Do you want to go out?” Thor asks impulsively. “Maybe get some dinner?”

“I already ate,” Loki says, holding up his Jell-O.

Thor rolls his eyes. “In what universe is that a meal?”

“Mine.”

“Come on, Loki. I feel like … like we never spend time together anymore. I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

Thor tries a different approach. “”You’ve lost a lot of weight, you know.”

Loki lifts an eyebrow. “So?”

“So, I think you need to eat more than a Jell-O cup once in awhile, whether you think it counts as a meal or not. You need to keep your strength up.”

“Why? It’s not as if I _do_ anything.” Loki makes a show of shoving the last spoonful of Jell-O into his mouth and swallowing. “We’re all here for this new start, as you keep saying, but all I’ve been doing for six months is sitting around, thinking about -” He breaks off abruptly and looks away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No, it does,” Thor presses. “Thinking about what?”

Loki changes the subject. “When are we going to go back to Alfheim?”

“I don’t know,” Thor admits. “I didn’t realize you were in a hurry.”

“I’m not, really, but at least there I’d be _doing_ something. Probably. Your friends don’t want me around, Thor, all talk of ‘new starts’ aside. Not enough for me to be useful in whatever _adventures_ they get into. And you … you sit around doing laundry and sparring with Bucky and pretending everything is _fine_ , just _fine_ . But you don’t go on missions. You don’t do anything for Asgard. You might as well not be king _or_ an Avenger. So I just don’t understand what we’re _doing_ here.”

For several moments, there is only silence as Thor blinks at Loki. He hadn’t realized that Loki was so frustrated with their circumstances. Something strange twists low in Thor’s abdomen, like anger or shame or fear - he doesn’t know, but it makes his cheeks burn and his head throb.

The thing is, Loki is right. Thor has been just … biding his time, but until what, he couldn’t say. The idea of returning to Asgard’s settlement and claiming the throne fills him with dread so strong he can hardly breathe. He hasn’t wanted the throne in years, even before he started dreaming of flames and hell and death and infinity stones. It had been such a relief to abdicate with his father’s blessing - his father, whom he now knows was Loki, all too eager to send Thor off to Midgard and away from discovering his ruse.

After Ragnarok, Thor was ready to do his duty because he thought he had no choice _._ Yet he thinks of the attack the Grandmaster had sprung on them, the absolute helplessness Thor had felt in the face of a threat he hadn’t bothered to anticipate.

So many lives hanging in the balance, all looking to Thor for salvation, and Thor couldn’t even save himself, let alone anyone else.

Certainly not Loki.

How can he be king when he neither wants nor is worthy of the throne? If Mjolnir were still intact, Thor isn’t sure he’d even be able to lift her anymore.

And here is Loki, his little brother, completely dependent on him because he has nowhere else to go even though he _knows_ Thor cannot save him, cannot protect him. They have both been beaten down and broken, and sometimes Thor wants to claw his own brain out as if that would make him completely forget everything they’d been forced to do to one another under the Grandmaster’s imprisonment.

Loki is right; this is no new start. They’re sagging too low under the weight of everything that came before, and neither of them can let it go. Thor passes his days in mundanity, opting out of missions, focusing on the spinning of the laundry cycle and how many passes of the vacuum cleaner makes the deepest lines in the carpet.

Meanwhile, Loki is coming apart entirely. Loki - depressed, starving himself, hiding any feelings that might be even remotely genuine behind shadowed green eyes and a set jaw. Crying alone at night, when he thinks no one can hear him.

Thor is overcome with the urge to wrap his arms around Loki, as tight as he possibly can, and never let him go. To tell him that things will be all right, that they’ll survive this. They are Odinsons. They are strong and resilient.

He opens his mouth, but the words don’t come out.

And he knows he can’t hug Loki, he can barely touch him without Loki flinching away. Loki hasn’t tried to touch Thor, but if he did, Thor imagines he’d react much the same way.

What if they never touch again?

Never hug again?

What if everything just _stops_ , the way they’ve stopped calling each other _brother_ , the way they’ve stopped talking about anything _real_?

Thor has nothing with which to reassure or comfort Loki. He can’t even reassure or comfort himself.

“I’m sorry,” is he says, when he finds his voice again. Loki has returned his attention to the television, but his eyes look vacant, as if he’s not seeing what’s on it at all. “Loki, I am. I just … I can’t go to Alfheim and be king. Not right now.” _Maybe not ever._

Loki sighs. His shoulders rise and fall. “It’s okay,” he says after a pause. “My life’s never been mine, anyway, so it shouldn’t bother me.”

Thor feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “I never meant to make you feel that way.”

“No one ever does,” Loki replies.

* * *

“You ever hear of _therapy?_ ” Tony asks a few days later.

They are in the kitchen, waiting for a pot of coffee to brew. It’s still early in the day, but the compound is in full swing, everyone seeing to their daily routines.

“What?” Thor shakes his head a little as if to clear it, and blinks at Tony. “I - no, I don’t think so.” He knows the word, of course, but he is unfamiliar with the Midgardian practice. “Not really. Why?”

“No reason. Just, you look like death warmed over these days,” Tony says, rather bluntly. “Your brother looks even worse. Thought you two might benefit from it.”

Thor runs a hand self-consciously through his too-short hair. He doesn’t spend a lot of time staring at himself in the mirror or anything, but he knows he’s looked better. “If I understood what you mean by _therapy_ , maybe I’d understand how it could help,” he says, lifting his eyebrows expectantly.

“Fair.” Tony rests his elbows on the counter behind him. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that says _Poison_ on it. Thor wonders vaguely why anyone would put the word _poison_ on their clothing, but he supposes he’s seen weirder Midgardian wear. “Therapy is like … well, my old man would say therapy is something for people with more money than problems, but he was old school. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps, you know.”

Thor doesn’t know, but he nods anyway.

“Pepper talked me into it,” Tony goes on, “about a year ago, after - well. When things with Cap went down the way they did, it wasn’t … I wasn’t doing very well. I never am, I guess, but worse than usual.” Tony pauses and flashes a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Thor says, in genuine sympathy. As hard a time as he and Loki have had lately, he knows that the rest of the Avengers have not been without their problems. “I know it was difficult for everyone. I’m only sorry I wasn’t here.”

Had Thor accomplished _anything_ in the time he’d spent away from both Earth and Asgard? A fruitless search for Infinity stones, leading him nowhere, and all the while Odin was growing weaker and Hela growing stronger and the Avengers were falling apart.

“Doubt you could have done much, even if you were,” Tony responds with something resembling a shrug. The coffee pot starts making a grinding noise, which it usually does when the pot is almost finished brewing. Tony pushes away from the counter and opens a cabinet, taking out two mugs.

“Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. My point is that I find it helpful - to everyone’s surprise, but especially my own. What I do is, I pay a guy a bunch of money to nod and make sympathetic noises while I dump all my problems on him.”

“And that’s helpful?” Thor asks doubtfully.

“I might be oversimplifying it.” Tony pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He starts over. “We _talk_. I tell him what’s bothering me, and he helps me get to the root of it. He helps me look at different perspectives. Reframe my thoughts, so they don’t bother me as much.”

Thor presses his lips together. “I appreciate your suggestion, Tony, but talking never did much good for me,” he admits. Loki had told Thor once that he was the kind of person who talked a lot and never _said_ anything. “And it certainly never did much for Loki.”

“How do you know?” Tony challenges as he hands Thor a bright blue mug filled with coffee. “When’s the last time you and Loki had a good, old-fashioned heart-to-heart?”

Thor accepts the mug and takes a long sip to put off answering. “I don’t remember,” he finally admits. He supposes telling Loki their paths had diverged, before they escaped Sakaar the first time, might count. Maybe.

Probably not.

Tony arches an eyebrow. “You don’t remember?”

His expression makes Thor feel defensive. “Loki’s not the easiest person in the world to talk to,” he says, hunching his shoulders in something resembling a shrug.

“Sometimes, buddy, neither are you.”

“Hey,” Thor protests, “I’m very easy to talk to.”

“This conversation would imply otherwise.” Tony takes a sip of his own coffee, and then his features relax into one of his friendly grins, reminding Thor that Tony may be blunt, but he means well. Usually. “Look, all I’m saying is that the two of you have been moping around here like zombies for months, with no sign of improving. I’m worried. We’re _all_ worried. It’s an option. That’s all I wanted to tell you.”

Thor draws in a slow breath, holding it for a few moments before he exhales through his nose. He looks down at his coffee, still steaming. Very, very faintly, he can see the outline of his own reflection in the black liquid.

“What would I even say?” Thor asks quietly, not looking up. “I feel like an empty shell and my brother’s already a broken one because we spent months in the captivity of a sadistic alien dictator who’s millions of years old and has a particularly sick sense of humor?”

“I’ll grant you, they probably didn’t cover that one in Psychology 101,” Tony admits dryly. When Thor dares to look up at him, though, he finds nothing but sympathy in Tony’s expression.

Thor has never been able to bring himself to tell his friends exactly what the Grandmaster made him and Loki do, but he is comforted by the thought that, if he did, Tony at least probably would not judge him.

“Still,” Tony goes on, “even though your particular experience is unique, the trauma isn’t. I just - I know post-traumatic stress when I see it. Anxiety and depression, too.” His gaze falters and he takes another swallow of his coffee. “Therapy _can_ help with those things.”

Thor nods slowly, watching as Tony shifts his weight and takes another sip of coffee. For as long as Thor has known him, Tony has been quick to mask his personal feelings behind a wry grin or a sarcastic remark. Thor always accepted that at face-value, never considering all the things that might be happening under the surface.

Now that he’s taking the time to look, though, he can see the shadows in Tony’s eyes as clear as day, and he has to wonder how he ever missed it.

“You’re a good friend, Tony,” Thor says impulsively. He feels a strange tightening at the back of his throat, and has to swallow it back. “I hope you know that.”

Tony shrugs, a swift lift of the shoulders. “I try.”

* * *

**_Then._ **

“Ah, liquid courage,” the Grandmaster said approvingly when Thor abruptly downed the rest of his drink. They were in the main room with a much larger crowd than they’d gotten used to of late, the Grandmaster having chosen to throw one of his parties, for no particular reason. “I, uh, I understand, Sparkles. It’s so much - so much easier to be open when your - when your inhibitions are lowered.”

Thor felt nausea crawling around in his stomach like worms. Like parasites. There was bile in the back of his throat already and he coughed, roughly, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth.

“Down the wrong pipe?” the Grandmaster asked.

“Something like that,” Thor replied.

On the Grandmaster’s other side, Loki was swaying a bit. While Thor had chosen alcohol as his drug of choice, Loki had been swallowing some kind of pills for the past few days. _What are they?_ Thor had asked, three nights ago; he and Loki were sitting on opposite sides of their room, as far away from each other as was possible.

 _Does it matter?_ Loki asked, popping the tiny green pills into his mouth. _They won’t kill me. I checked._

It was such an absurd thing to say, but Thor understood. He swallowed hard. _We have to get out of here, Loki._

 _And how,_ Loki agreed, _but in case you’ve forgotten, my magic is as useless right now as your lightning. This Nornsforsaken thing -_ He gestured at the obedience disk and made a frustrated sound.

They’d learned the hard way that the Grandmaster had done something to Loki’s disk in particular, which inhibited his magic. It did not _prevent_ him from using it - no, that would have been too kind. Instead, the Grandmaster, playing on Loki’s natural instincts to use his seidr like a limb, made it so that the use of seidr triggered electrical shocks without the Grandmaster having to use the remote at all. Loki couldn’t so much as conjure a mage light without causing himself extreme pain.

The Grandmaster was many things, a sadistic son of a bitch not being the least of them.

“Sparkles,” the Grandmaster said, his voice dripping with false concern, “I’m, uh, I’m a little worried about your brother, here.”

“I’m fine,” came Loki’s reply, although he was rubbing his temples.

“You don’t look fine,” the Grandmaster said, and looked to Thor for confirmation. “He doesn’t look fine, does he, Sparkles? Oh, _gosh_ , I hope - I hope there wasn’t anything wrong with the pills I gave you,” he went on, smacking his forehead lightly with the heel of his palm. “How careless of me. I lose - lose track of, uh, of what floats around here, you understand.”

“What did you do to him?” Thor growled. He clenched his fists so hard his empty cocktail glass shattered, shards slicing into his palm. Thor barely felt it.

“Me?” The Grandmaster had the audacity to look offended. “I didn’t do anything. Green Eyes _asked_ for the pills, didn’t you, darling?”

Loki had broken out into a cold sweat; Thor could tell from the slight sheen on his skin and the way he kept shifting uncomfortably. His head lolled toward the Grandmaster’s shoulder, but his eyes found Thor’s. They were much too bright.

“I did,” Loki said anyway. “I asked for them.”

“If I gave him the wrong thing …” The Grandmaster waved a hand helplessly, as if to say, _what can you do?_

What could he do?

What could he do?

The pressure of holding himself so rigidly hurt. The bruising on Thor’s arms had gotten worse, his muscles protesting under the strain of the force he put into his clenched fists. Just then, Thor was clenching them so hard that his knuckles had turned white.

It was all he could do to not reach out and grab the Grandmaster by his slimy neck. Thor could break it like a twig and do the entire universe a favor - he would not be expecting it, he would not have time to react.

 _Norns, I could do it,_ Thor thought, and clenched his fists even harder. _I would_ _enjoy_ _it_.

There had been a time when Thor thought himself wisened by experience and humbled by the humans. He’d thought he’d tempered the rage and battlelust inside of him, the destructive force in his core which made killing fun and mercy nonexistent. Now, if Thor had to kill, it was only out of necessity, for the greater good.

What a fool he was. Thor had not changed a bit.

He realized it as he stared at the Grandmaster and thought of all the ways he would enjoy making him suffer. How much pleasure he would get out of this particular killing, should the Norns grant it to him. How he would _relish_ it.

Some people, when they reached their breaking point, came apart at the seams. Some people fell down and never got back up again. Thor, however, had always prided himself on never giving up - never reaching that elusive point of no return. Heroes stood tall and proud in the face of adversity. There was always a way to conquer, to win. It was this philosophy that kept Thor going as long as he had, for he was mighty and every threat was only a foe he hadn’t beaten yet.

How bitter it was, to realize that he was not immune to being broken; that he was, at the core, as weak as everyone who fell before him. He fell so hard, when the pedestal he’d built for himself crumbled at the foundations. First Hela, whom he couldn’t beat himself and only escaped by unleashing Surtur. Thor won, technically, but it had cost him Asgard. It had cost him _everything_.

Now the Grandmaster. What little Thor had left, the Grandmaster was taking away, piece by piece.

Thor was _letting_ him.

Thor looked at Loki, who looked rather helpless, resting his head on the Grandmaster’s shoulder. He watched as the Grandmaster began to card his fingers through Loki’s hair, and even though Loki’s expression didn’t change at all, Thor saw him swallow, saw him digging his nails into his palms.

And Thor felt a rage so powerful and hot that it was blinding. Apparently, the only thing worse than making _Thor_ rape Loki was the Grandmaster doing it himself, getting off on how much Loki didn’t want it.

He had reached his breaking point, it seemed.

Thor was hardly even aware of himself moving. There was a split-second when he saw Loki’s eyes go wide, and then Thor was on the Grandmaster, hands wrapped around his neck, squeezing so hard that his bones screamed with the effort. “You son of a bitch,” Thor all but roared, “you absolute bastard -”

And then burning electricity was coursing through his veins, not his own, and paralyzing pain took over.

It was the last thing he was aware of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out with me on [tumblr!](iamanartichoke.tumblr.com) <3 <3 <3


	3. III.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming to a conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *singing Let it Go* I have been agonizing over this chapter for over a week and I just have to let it go and post. Thank you all for the wonderful feedback!! 
> 
>  
> 
> **Just reiterating the warnings that this kind of explicitly (not super explicitly) portrays non-con. Also the r-word is used kind of a lot this chapter - maybe less than ten, but enough that I lost count.**

 

**III.**

 

**_Now._ **

For the next few days, Thor thinks about what Tony said. It’s true that trauma is trauma, regardless of the exact circumstances. A Midgardian therapist would have no frame of reference for the Grandmaster and Sakaar - but, being held prisoner, emotional trauma, _rape_ … unfortunately, those concepts are pretty universal. Thor knows that.

He also knows that Loki would transform himself into some kind of small animal and hurl himself into the washing machine’s heaviest cycle before he’d tell any stranger, let alone a _human_ stranger, anything about what he was thinking or feeling.

To be honest, Thor can’t blame him overmuch for that. The absolute last thing he wants to do is talk to anyone about the things he and Loki were forced to do. He doesn’t want his feelings about it to be dissected, especially when, to him, they are pretty clear-cut. Disgust, self-loathing, guilt … Thor is already intimately familiar with how the experience made him _feel._

So, maybe therapy isn’t the right option. Thor must admit, however, that Tony has something resembling a point. He and Loki are floundering, and sooner or later, something has to give.

* * *

 

**_Then._ **

Thor awoke to a lot of pain. His eyes fluttered open to see the ugly red and white decor of his and Loki’s room surrounding him, crowding in on him, and he closed his eyes again with a muffled groan. He refused to deal with this.

* * *

 

**_Now._ **

Halfway through Thor and Bucky’s usual sparring session, Loki materializes out of nowhere. Thor doesn’t notice him until his gaze sweeps along the side of the gym, and he does a double-take when he sees Loki just sitting there on the bench, watching them with no particular expression on his face.

He’s so distracted that Bucky, who hasn’t seen Loki yet, manages to knock Thor flat on his ass. Loki snorts a laugh, much to Thor’s chagrin.

Bucky turns his head at the sound, even as he  he leans down and extends an arm to Thor to help him up. “Oh, hey,” he greets Loki, as if Loki’s presence isn’t unexpected at all. “Didn’t see you there.”

Loki shrugs. He’s dressed in what can only be called _workout clothes_ , which is even stranger a sight. “I wondered if I could have a turn,” he says, without looking directly at either of them. “I kind of feel like hitting things today.”

Thor and Bucky glance at each other. The silence stretches for a beat too long, because Loki ducks his head a bit. Not fast enough for Thor to miss the color rising to his cheeks. “It’s okay,” he says, sounding embarrassed. “Sorry. Stupid idea. I’ll leave you to it.”

“No,” Thor blurts out, just as Loki starts to get to his feet. He and Bucky exchange another glance, and Bucky just shrugs. “No,” Thor says again, “don’t go. I was just surprised, that’s all. Of course you can have a turn.”

This is _good_ , he thinks, as Loki looks back at him doubtfully. It’s the first time in months Loki’s actively shown an interest in _anything._ “Really,” Thor insists. “How about you and Bucky go a round? I could use a break anyway.” For as much as Thor is pleased that Loki is showing an interest - and that he seems to want to get his feelings out in some way besides sulking and starving - he isn’t entirely sure that Loki is up for any sudden, close-contact with Thor.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, his expression not changing a bit from its general neutrality. “Sounds good.”

“Well - okay,” Loki says, as if this was their idea and they were convincing _him_. Thor shakes his head, smiling a little, and as he and Loki pass each other to switch places, he has to resist reaching out and squeezing Loki on the shoulder as he once would have done without a thought. Thor drops down onto the bench, reaching for his bottled water, as Loki and Bucky face off against each other.

It’s … absurd. On the one side, there is Bucky - in his tank top and sweatpants, he’s all bulging muscles and intimidating metal arm, his shoulders twice as broad as Loki’s. He has his brown hair pulled back away from his face, for once, which makes his rugged features and flat eyes seem all the more dangerous.

In comparison, Loki looks helplessly small. His sweatpants hang loosely at his hips, and his black t-shirt reveals scrawny arms and pointy elbows. He pushes his black hair behind his ears, the curls nearly brushing his collarbones. Loki is tall, though, towering a couple of inches over Bucky. That, and Thor knows looks are deceiving, especially when it comes to Loki.

It’s clear from the expression on Bucky’s face that he doesn’t know what to think - on the one hand, Loki is not human, but on the other hand, he looks so _frail_. Bucky glances at Thor, who just lifts his shoulders and sips his water.

 _Okay, then,_ Bucky’s face says, and he springs forward.

It takes them a few minutes to get into a groove. Thor cannot tell which one is going easier on the other. Loki meets Bucky’s fists and returns blows of his own, but it’s clear from the way they move and circle around one another that each of them thinks he has to hold back. Their fighting styles clash - Bucky moves like a freight train, all unstoppable force, whereas Loki slinks like water, never where his opponent expects him to be.

It’s almost painfully awkward to watch, until all at once, something in Loki seems to snap. He moves fast, in a quick succession of blows that culminates in one that has Bucky flying. He slams into the far wall, and Loki’s eyes go wide.

“Shit! Sorry!” Loki exclaims, which - given the circumstances is not the _most_ unusual thing to happen this morning, but is pretty up there on the list. “I didn’t mean -”

Bucky pushes himself up on his hands, tossing his head so that the hair that has come loose from his ponytail falls back from his eyes. He grins. “Don’t apologize. Let’s go again.”

Neither of them hold back after that.

By the time their round ends in a draw, both are breathing hard, and Loki is actually _smiling_.

* * *

 

**_Then._ **

The next time Thor awoke, the pain hadn’t lessened any, but he was more concerned with his stomach doing somersaults. As soon as he saw the red and white ceiling again, bile rose in his throat so quickly that he lurched up.

“Thor?” said Loki, from … somewhere. Thor didn’t see him, nor did he particularly care at the moment. He was laying on the bed, but he lurched up, bent over, and vomited right onto the floor next to the bed. Remnants of whatever meal he’d eaten last came up, joining a myriad of colors from the several different Sakaaran alcohols Thor had been drinking.

He vomited until his throat was scorched raw, until his nose was running and his eyes burned with tears. He felt Loki’s hand on his back, rubbing soothingly between his shoulder blades, and dimly he realized it was the first time Loki had _voluntarily_ touched him since … since the first time they had -

Another burst of vomit came up.

“Norns,” Thor got out, coughing weakly. He felt thoroughly emptied and wrung out. “Shit, I’m sorry.” There was vomit _everywhere_.

Loki didn’t comment on it, though, which Thor thought was nice of him. “Come on,” he said instead, sliding his palm over one of Thor’s shoulders. He helped Thor lay down again, propping some pillows behind his head, and then he disappeared long enough to return with a washcloth, which he handed to Thor so that Thor could wipe his mouth.

“Thank you,” Thor managed.

Loki nodded. He took the washcloth and began wiping the rest of Thor’s face, mopping up the sweat on his brow and the dampness on his cheeks.

Now that the vomiting was over, Thor was very aware of the pain that pummeled the rest of his body. His stomach was still twisting itself inside out and everything _throbbed,_ like he’d been tossed around like a ball between a group of bilgesnipes playing keepaway from the smallest. There was a very sharp pain at the base of his skull and, most concerningly, a burning sensation in his ass.

“What happened?” he croaked. The last thing he remembered was attacking the Grandmaster although, as he became more lucid, he could remember flashes of the Grandmaster above him, keeping a consistent rhythm, laughing. Thor shuddered as his brain put together the pieces.

“You’re an idiot, is what happened,” Loki said, but his voice lacked its usual bite. He sighed, trailing his washcloth along Thor’s jawline. “The Grandmaster wasn’t happy in the least. Thor, what were you _thinking?_ ”

Thor squeezed his eyes shut. He remembered Loki, swaying and looking ill, the Grandmaster pawing at Loki like - A fresh wave of fury broke over him, and he opened his eyes and looked back at Loki. “You looked … he gave you something,” Thor recalled, “and the way he was _touching_ you … I just - I wasn’t thinking at all, I suppose. What did he give you, anyway?”

Loki shrugged. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter. I’m fine now.” He mopped the washcloth along Thor’s brow one last time, and then leaned over to set the cloth down on the side table.

“What did he do to me?” Thor asked, somehow needing confirmation. He lifted a hand, which hurt, to touch hesitantly at the sharp pain at the base of his skull and, to his horror, he felt another obedience disk there. Smaller than the one on his neck, embedded just as firmly. He resisted the urge to try to yank it off, knowing how fruitless that was.

Loki didn’t answer the question. Instead, he moved back to his side of the bed so that there were, once again, several inches of space in between them. Thor’s heart twisted painfully. “We need a plan,” Loki said, scrubbing his hands over his face. He pushed his hands into his hair, then, practically clawing through the strands as his hands came to rest at the nape of his own neck.

“A plan,” Thor agreed, digging his fingernails under his new obedience disk even knowing it was useless. The tiniest tug sent shockwaves reverberating through him, and he groaned and let go. “Right. Any ideas?”

Loki looked up at him, his eyes now wide. There was something panicked there, and it reminded Thor of a younger Loki, a half-mad Loki, standing atop Stark Tower as he saw - seemingly for the first time - the destruction he had wrought.

“I can’t _think_ ,” he admitted. “Every plan I come up with, I remember another reason it won’t work. I knew the Grandmaster was powerful, I just -”

“Didn’t realize _how_ powerful,” Thor finished for him, and nodded. “Me too.”

“Playing along was pointless, in hindsight,” Loki said with a sigh. The panicked look faded from his eyes, replaced with a bone-deep weariness that hurt to look at. “It just made things easier for him.”

“Maybe it did,” Thor pointed out, “but fighting was never going to do us any good, either. What if we poison him? Just slip something into one of his drinks when he’s not looking?”

Loki shot him a look, as if to say, _you are the stupidest person on the planet._ Something about it was refreshing. “Even if we could possibly come up with something that would even work on him, which is highly improbable, the Grandmaster is _always_ looking.”

It was true - for such a loose cannon, the Grandmaster was remarkably sharp. “Well, I don’t hear _you_ coming up with any brilliant schemes,” Thor replied.

Loki chewed on his lip. “I know,” he said softly. His shoulders slumped a bit as he rested his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands. “It’s going to get worse, you know.”

Thor laughed. It was a strange sound to his own ears, something frayed and teetering on the edge of hysteria. He tore his gaze away from Loki and stared up at the ceiling until the red and white blurred together. “How much worse could it possibly get?”

Famous last words.

* * *

 

**_Now._ **

The success of their unexpected sparring session wears off much too quickly. Thor invites Loki to lunch afterwards, but Loki shakes his head, his smile already fading as he takes a few steps back.

“I think I’ll go shower, actually,” he responds. “Thanks for letting me join, though.”

“Anytime,” Bucky says with a wave.

Thor watches him go without a word, but when he turns to Bucky and opens his mouth, Bucky just lifts a hand.

“Remember what I said before,” Bucky tells him.

 _Make sure he knows you’re not giving up on him._ Thor presses his lips together, but nods.

Baby steps are better than no steps.

* * *

Loki avoids Thor for a few days.

* * *

Thor sits in the hallway, watching the washing machine. He stares at the whirling clothes, going by so quickly that all of the colors blur together. It reminds him, now, of the Bifrost more than Mjolnir - the rush of water and soap, the blend of greens and reds and blues all moving faster than he can follow.

A glimpse of a rainbow in a flat, dull world.

* * *

 

**_Then._ **

Thor began to go somewhere else.

After Thor had attacked the Grandmaster, the Grandmaster had activated his obedience disk and then, while Thor writhed in agony and slipped in and out of consciousness, the Grandmaster had taken him, hard and fast, overpowering Thor so easily that it would have been embarrassing, had Thor even fully realized what was happening - which, he did not. He only had the lingering pain the assault left him with and a few scattered flashbacks of the Grandmaster on top of him. Whenever he had one of those flashbacks, the urge to vomit overcame him again, and the only way to avoid it was to press the memories back. He pushed them down, into some deep, dark space inside of himself.

He locked them away until he forgot entirely.

Soon, Thor realized that he could put all of his memories there. Drink and pills were helpful in the aftermath, but to get _through_ it first, Thor needed another way. The Grandmaster was insatiable. He could think of no end of ways he wanted Thor and Loki to have one another. With a second obedience disk embedded in his skull, Thor couldn’t even _think_ about fighting back.

Instead, he zoned out.

The Grandmaster’s interests varied. Sometimes, he liked Thor to take Loki; other times, Loki would take Thor. Occasionally, the Grandmaster himself would join in, but mostly, he liked to watch. Unfortunately, the quick, almost surgical way Thor and Loki had gotten through the first few times no longer satisfied the Grandmaster. “Come on, Green Eyes,” he’d say, when Loki went too long without kissing Thor. “You _love_ your brother, don’t you? Show us how much you love him.”

Or, “Sparkles, you’re looking a little - a little distant. I think you need some, uh, some _attention_ , don’t you agree, Green Eyes?”

Or, “You’re about as - as intimate as a loaf of bread, Sparkles. _Look_ at your brother. Look into those, uh, those _gorgeous_ green eyes. See how much he loves you.”

It would last for hours, sometimes. The Grandmaster would have them kiss for awhile; he would make Thor and Loki use their fingers; he’d make them take one another’s cocks into their mouths; he’d have them take turns fucking each other in various positions. He seemed to love _all_ of it and he showed no signs of growing bored.

It was the strangest sensation, really. Their bodies responded to the physical pleasure, they couldn’t help that, but that pleasure came second to an all-over, skin-crawling feeling of disgust. The feeling buried itself in Thor’s bones, made his stomach twist and turn. It lingered long after the sex was over.

The only way to cope was to pretend it wasn’t happening.

So Thor would stare at the ceiling, memorizing the patterns and designs.

He would count as high as he could, backwards and forwards, in every language he knew.

He would try to remember the lyrics to Midgardian rock songs Tony had introduced him to before Thor had gone off in search of infinity stones, another lifetime ago.

Thor drifted in and out, his brain halting its processes, the memories fading before they could even form. He felt guilty, in retrospect, for leaving Loki behind. It seemed like, if Thor couldn’t save or protect Loki from this goddamn fucking _nightmare_ , he should at least suffer it alongside him.

It was selfish to check out, pure and simple, and Thor knew it.

He did it anyway.

There was no other way he could survive.

* * *

 

**_Now._ **

The next time Thor hears Loki crying, he takes a deep breath and tries the knob on Loki’s door. He doesn’t knock, which Loki has always hated, but he is afraid that if he does, Loki will shut him down before Thor even has a chance to _try_. The door is unlocked. Thor more than half expects some charm or spell to be in place to keep him out, but he is surprised when the door gives easily. Perhaps Loki has never bothered to charm the door because Thor has never tried to come in uninvited before.

The room is very dark. Thor is nearly silent, holding onto the knob until the door is open wide enough for Thor to slip through. Light from the bathroom spills in, which Loki must notice, but he doesn’t say anything, which is encouraging. Thor can make out his brother’s small form in bed. Loki is lying on his side, curled into a ball, hugging a pillow. He looks so child-like that it makes Thor’s throat tighten.

“Loki,” Thor whispers, closing the door behind him, closing them into complete darkness again.

Loki is no longer crying audibly, but when he speaks, his voice is very rough, still wet with tears. “Get out, Thor.”

Thor approaches the bed anyway. He sits down very carefully on the far edge, Loki’s back to him so that he can’t see Loki’s face. It seems like he’s got more privacy, that way. “Loki, please talk to me,” he begs, his throat growing even more tight. “ _Please._ ”

“There’s nothing to say.” Loki brings a hand up to rub his eyes. “It’s not going to change anything.”

Maybe not, but Thor is encouraged that Loki hasn’t literally thrown him out yet. “Tony says he finds talking helpful,” Thor says. “He goes to therapy.”

“I don’t give a good goddamn what Tony says.”

Thor sighs.

If this were before - before the Grandmaster, at least, but really, before Loki fell - Thor wouldn’t have hesitated to curl up behind Loki and wrap his arms around him, holding him close. He remembers many, many nights in their youth passing that way. Life was not always golden for the princes of Asgard. Loki would comfort Thor when Thor was in tears with frustration over the ins and outs of politics, for example - it wasn’t that he didn’t understand them, it was just that he found them so _boring_ , and in the dark quiet of night, he’d worry himself into a panic about the huge responsibility of being king. It terrified him a lot more than he’d ever admit.

Loki always understood. Things were not easy for him, either - he was too often on the receiving end of Odin’s harsh criticism, he struggled with feeling out of place and different, unable to make friends, too introverted to enjoy the spotlight with ease the way Thor did.

During the day, they put on their brave faces; they were princes, after all, and had appearances to keep. At night, though, they sought the comfort of one another, in the dark, tranquil space where they could reveal their true selves. If Thor was crying, Loki would hug him from behind, hooking his chin on Thor’s shoulder, murmuring comforting things; if Loki was crying, Thor would hug him the same way, pressing his lips to Loki’s neck as he whispered reminders of Loki’s value and worth.

These were the things that nobody saw - every little intimacy they’d cultivated over the course of a thousand years, each layered on top of the last, built upon a foundation of brotherhood that went beyond blood, beyond kin. Thor had always thought of Loki and himself as soulmates in a way, as kindred spirits, _part_ of each other, and that had not changed when Loki discovered his adoption. Thor could not understand why it had changed for Loki - why it _mattered_ where he came from, or how he got there, so long as he ended up with Thor.

More than Loki’s madness, more than Loki’s crimes, what gutted Thor down to his very bones was that Loki so immediately rejected everything that had made them brothers. _I’m not your brother,_ Loki had said to Thor; _I never was._ Throwing Thor away like old scraps, _hating_ Thor as if Thor was the one who’d made Loki Jotun, who’d lied to Loki all his life. The only way he could hate Thor so completely was if he never loved Thor at all, and if Loki could stop loving Thor, then Thor would stop loving Loki right back.

At least, that was what Thor told himself, clinging onto his anger like a salve to distract from how much it _hurt_.

Now - now, Thor and Loki had finally found their way back to at least a start of being what they once were, until the Grandmaster swooped in and snatched it away.

Thor hates the Grandmaster for many things, but what he hates most is that he’d taken something as innate and natural as touch between them and turned it into something _wrong_. He’d erased all of the existing lines and redrew them in impossible patterns so that neither Thor nor Loki knows where they are anymore.

Thor cannot comfort Loki with touch, and his words have never done any good.

Instead, he moves to lay down. He can feel Loki tense when Thor shifts, but Thor leaves space between them. He lays down on his side, facing Loki’s back, leaving enough space between them to make it clear he has no intention of touching Loki. “Tell me why you’re crying,” he says.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Loki lets out a long sigh, followed by a sniffle. For awhile, he is quiet, but something about the dark and about not having to look at Thor’s face must embolden him because finally, he says, “I can’t make it stop.”

Trust Loki to be evasive even when he’s opening up. Thor rolls his eyes a little, since Loki can’t see him anyway. He doesn’t let his tone change, however. “Can’t make what stop?”

“Everything in my head. I try so hard not to think about it, but I can’t think of anything _else_ . I can’t _sleep_. I always have nightmares.” Loki draws in a deep, shuddering breath. “Everything is my fault, Thor.”

“No. Hey.” Thor physically clenches his fist, digging his nails into his palm, so that he won’t reach out and rub a hand between Loki’s shoulder blades. “Don’t even say that, Loki. None of it is your fault.”

“But it _is_ ,” Loki insists. “I knew eventually it would come to what it did.”

“How could you know?”

Loki sniffles again and drags his hand across his eyes. “Before - before you came to Sakaar,” he begins, hesitantly, “the first time, I knew … I knew the Grandmaster had certain _tastes_.”

Thor’s throat feels very dry, all of a sudden. “Okay …” he prompts.

To Thor’s surprise, Loki suddenly rolls over to face him. His eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, as if he’s been crying for hours. Maybe he has. “Don’t you remember, I told you I’d won the Grandmaster’s favor? Earned his trust?”  

Thor shudders. “You mean, you slept with the Grandmaster even before -?”

“No,” Loki says quickly, but he averts his gaze. “No, I just … I made him _think_ I would.”

Thor opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

“When I first got there,” Loki goes on, “I knew it was either get friendly with the Grandmaster or end up a contender or a slave. I thought you were dead, and I felt … empty, I suppose. Numb. I didn’t know _what_ to do, really, but it wouldn’t be the first time I found myself alone in the universe, having to figure out how to survive.”

Thor shifts uncomfortably, averting his gaze. He doesn’t know, to this day, what happened to Loki between when he fell from the Bifrost and when he turned up, crazed on fury and powerlust, on Midgard a year later. He realizes he’s never asked - but, if he did, would Loki even tell him?

 _Probably not,_ he thinks, and pushes the thought away. They can cross that particular bridge another time. “So you _made friends_ with a complete lunatic,” Thor fills in.

“When I arrived at court, he took a liking to me,” Loki admits. “I took advantage of that. I’d flirt, I’d lead him on _just enough_ . It worked wonders toward gaining his favor. He was practically falling all over himself trying to impress me, wooing me with gifts and attention.” Loki lets out a sharp huff of a laugh. “He could have just _taken_ what he wanted, I guess, but he seemed to really enjoy the chase.”

“So … what happened?”

“Nothing. You showed up. We escaped.”

“Loki …” Thor studies Loki’s face, but it reveals nothing except grief. “I don’t understand why any of that would make you think what he did to us was your fault.”

“How can you not see?” Loki retorts. “Obviously, I knew from the beginning what he wanted. When we went with him, I knew it would only be a matter of time before he came to collect on what I’d promised and never delivered. I thought it would only be _me_ , though. I never thought - but having you thrown into the equation made it so much worse. Not only could he have me, but at the same time, he could play out his weird brother kink.”

“But -”

“If I hadn’t led him on, if I hadn’t played him, he might never have thought of it,” Loki goes on. It’s like the words are spilling from him now and he is helpless to hold them back. He starts to cry again. “Maybe he’d have just made us slaves and let us be. _I’m_ the one who brought sex into it. I made him _rape you_ and I’m the reason you and I - and _we_ \- I feel _disgusting,_ Thor. Every second of every single day. I can’t escape it, I can’t make it stop. How can you not _see?_ ” he says again.

Loki is really crying now, the last of his words choked out on a sob, leaving Thor helpless to do anything but stare at him and try to figure out what to say. Thor isn’t entirely sure he follows Loki’s logic. On the one hand, Loki has a tendency toward self-flagellation, so Thor can understand _how_ he’s twisted things so much that this is the conclusion he’s reached, but on the other hand, Thor is positive that the Grandmaster would have done what he wanted anyway, regardless of what Loki may or may not have done before.  

He can’t just lay here and watch Loki cry. Thor feels his heart constrict and tug as he realizes that, in addition to wrestling with the same trauma that’s plagued Thor all these months, Loki has been blaming himself for the entire thing. The guilt must have been eating him alive.

“Loki, Loki,” Thor breathes, making his voice as soothing as possible. “None of it is your fault, Loki, I promise.”

“How can you _say_ that?” Loki gets out, brokenly.

“Because I know it’s true,” Thor tells him. “The Grandmaster was _sick._ You didn’t make him that way. He had his own agenda, his own rules. Okay, so you flirted with him - so what? That doesn’t mean you were asking to be raped, or giving him permission forever to do whatever he wanted to you - or me, for that matter. If I had to guess, all your flirting did was buy you time because the Grandmaster probably wasn’t expecting it. Don’t _you_ see? You thought fast and you played a game and it prevented him from raping _you_ when you were alone there. You _survived,_ Loki.”

Loki wipes his eyes, but he doesn’t look convinced. Thor rolls over toward the nightstand behind him, where he’d noticed a box of tissues earlier - Loki keeping tissues around is a new development, and it hurts Thor to realize it’s probably out of necessity from so many nights spent in tears - and plucks a few, which he passes to Loki.

“Thanks,” Loki says, and blows his nose.

For several minutes, they’re quiet, just staring at one another. “I know you don’t believe me,” Thor finally says, “but I’m telling you the truth when I tell you it wasn’t your fault.”

“How can you not blame me?” Loki retorts. “Everything he did -”

“Was his own choice,” Thor finishes for him. “He was a lunatic, Loki. You can’t apply your own logic to an illogical person and then claim to know his reasons why. It just - it doesn’t work like that. He would have done exactly what he wanted anyway. Blaming yourself isn’t going to change anything that happened, it’s only going to make you hurt worse.”

“I deserve it,” Loki whispers, dropping his gaze.

“No,” Thor disagrees. “Do you think I deserve it?”

“Of course not. Why would you?”

“Why would _you?_ ”

Loki opens his mouth, and then closes it again. A muscle in his jaw moves and his eyes harden. “It’s different for you and me, Thor. You can’t just oversimplify it like you do everything else.”

“Loki, did the Grandmaster rape you?”

“ _Norns_ , Thor, what the hell kind of question is that?”

“Did he?” Thor presses.

Loki drops his gaze, color rushing to his cheeks. He nods silently.

“Did he rape me?”

“Yes,” Loki whispers.

“Did he make you and I rape each other?”

“You know he did.”

“That’s what it comes down to. I’m not oversimplifying it. That’s _what happened,_ the same damn thing, to _both_ of us, and if I’m not responsible, then neither are you. I don’t care what you did before. It amounts to less than nothing in the face of what he did later. I mean, did the Grandmaster ever _say_ you gave him the idea?”

“No,” Loki admits.  

Thor lifts his eyebrows as if to say, _see?_ as if that solves everything. He knows it doesn’t, and he imagines many more conversations like this taking place. The thought doesn’t fill him with anything but hope, because finally, he and Loki are _talking_ about it. Loki is letting Thor in, Loki is listening to him, and maybe that means they’re actually getting somewhere.

“I still think it’s my fault,” Loki says a moment later, as if on cue.

The corners of Thor’s mouth tilt, just a bit. “I know, brother,” he says, and Loki’s eyes widen - it has been so long since either of them has used the endearment. “I’ll tell you it’s not your fault as many times as it takes for you to believe it.”

Hesitantly, Loki reaches out across the space between them. He runs his fingers tentatively along Thor’s jawline, and then briefly cups Thor’s neck, the way Thor always used to do to Loki. “Thank you,” he whispers.

* * *

 

**_Then._ **

When the Avengers finally came for them, both Thor and Loki had lost track of time. Thor was checking out so much that he was starting to forget to check in again; he spent hours staring at nothing, the gears of his brain barely shifting.

Loki spent a lot of time equally dazed, pliant, defeated. He was swallowing more pills than Thor could keep track of - and even so, how could Thor begrudge his brother his coping mechanisms?

They were in terrible shape, both physically and mentally. They were broken and hollowed out. Their shine was all gone.

In the end, the Grandmaster simply let them go.

* * *

 

**_Now._ **

It is another Thursday, another gathering of the team for dinner. Thor and Loki sit next to one another, a few inches of space between them. Tonight, they’ve ordered Chinese food. “What is this?” Wanda asks as she spoons a few dumplings onto her plate.

“Uh, honey garlic chicken, looks like,” Peter volunteers. He accepts the container from her and flashes her a grin as he takes a helping for himself. “It’s pretty good.”

“Hmm,” Wanda says. She glances up and catches Thor watching her. Her eyes narrow a bit, but only for a moment, and then her features relax. “I’m wary to try something with garlic _and_ honey in the name,” she adds. “Seems like a strange combination.”

“You would think so,” Sam chimes in, “but I gotta agree with the kid, it’s actually delicious.”

“And,” Tony adds, looking up from where he’s scooping copious amounts of fried rice onto his plate, “if that’s not to your liking, we’ve also got sweet and sour pork, beef and broccoli, king pao chicken -”

“What is kung pao chicken?” Loki asks, surprising them all. He’s been passing the dishes methodically, as usual, not taking anything for himself.

“Try it and find out,” Tony replies. He picks up one of the containers and passes it to Loki. “Let me know what you think.”

Thor tries not to make it obvious that he’s watching as Loki draws in a breath and then spoons a few pieces of chicken onto his plate. He passes the container on to Thor, briefly meeting Thor’s gaze, and Thor takes a serving, too, even though he hadn’t been planning on straying too far from the lo mein, beef, and broccoli.

Loki takes an egg roll, too, which is nothing short of miraculous. Even though his plate still looks hopelessly empty compared to the rest of theirs, he’s taken the initiative to fill it without Thor helping or prompting. _Baby steps,_ he reminds himself, and glances up when he feels Bucky’s gaze on them. Bucky nods and smiles, and Thor gives a quick nod in return.

The table dissolves into several different conversations as the dishes go around. Across the table, Wanda is chewing a bit of honey garlic chicken, and Thor dares to ask, “How is it?” She still makes him nervous, with her powers and her past, but they’re on the same team. A fresh start. Baby steps, like with Loki.

“Surprisingly good,” she answers after swallowing, and grins.

Thor grins back.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Loki take a bite of his chicken. He chews slowly, and follows it with a long sip of Dr. Pepper. Eat, chew, sip. He repeats the process methodically until his plate is empty and when he’s finished, Thor reaches out, resting his hand just for a moment on Loki’s knee.

This time, Loki doesn’t pull away. Instead, he catches Thor’s gaze, and he smiles.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on [tumblr!](http://iamanartichoke.tumblr.com/)


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